Waking Up
by washed away again
Summary: Set in Season 6.  Buffy tries to relearn herself after she's brought back to life.  Spuffy all the way.  Inserted scenes.  Completely faithful to canon.
1. Chapter 1

"See, Buffy? Home sweet home," Dawn said nervously, tugging on her sister's hand, pulling her through the doorway of 1630 Revello Drive.

"Home," Buffy repeated numbly, her eyes darting around the familiar interior. Her vision was still cloudy, but it was clearing up. Things were starting to fall into place. This house, this was hers. This girl, this was hers too.

The others had all cleared out, hugging her enthusiastically. Their faces made a lot less sense than the girl next to her…Dawn. And the man following close behind them, shadowing their every step, he made the least sense of them all. But he didn't seem disappointed that she couldn't locate him quite yet. He only seemed worried about each step she was taking, and whether she responded to her name. Which she was hearing right now-

"Buffy?" Dawn was tilting her head quizzically, "Buffy come on."

Buffy opened her mouth to respond but this time no sounds came out.

"Dawn," the man behind them replied for her, "Why don't you go get ready for bed?"

"Shouldn't we get her something to eat? Or maybe she should take a shower first?"

Buffy started to panic. She had to tell them this was all a terrible mistake, that she had to get out of here. She opened her mouth again and this time wailed in frustration that no sounds came out and stomped her foot.

Dawn took a step back cautiously.

"Dawn," the man repeated, this time with authority, "Dawn go upstairs and go to bed."

Buffy grabbed at her sister, gesturing wildly that she didn't want to eat, that she didn't eat anymore.

"Dawn," the man fairly shouted.

Dawn's face crumpled but she ran up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door before Buffy could see if she was actually starting to cry or not.

"I'm sorry, love. She'll be fine. She does that a lot these days, nothing to fret about."

Buffy turned to face the owner of the voice and this time a name clicked.

"Spike," she guessed hesitantly.

"Yeah, that's my name."

"I'm…I'm…" she felt tears welling in her eyes and she waved her hands in front of her face uselessly, trying to stop them, and then settled for clutching at her throat, trying to ease the pain in it.

"I know, love," he said soothingly. He reached out a hand cautiously to touch her shoulder. When she didn't flinch he took a step closer, and before she could bolt back out into the night he scooped her up and cradled her to his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Buffy's already been dead and resurrected. She's not happy about it either. Angel called her and asked to see her. She met with him, and has just returned to Sunnydale and come to find Spike.

There she stood.

He had answered the door, never expecting it to be her. Never expecting a visit with Angel to be so short. God knows last time the poofter came to town there was practically a bloody parade and then she was gone for the whole sodding next day. He had figured for her to be gone a good long while, and to come back with no need of him, Spike, the vampire in second place.

But here she stood. She had knocked so softly he had figured Dawn for his visitor. He hadn't told Buffy about how he and Dawn had sometimes sat up all night, watching the Buffybot charge, trying desperately to imagine it was really her. Dawn was the only one who understood. But now with Buffy back, alive but certainly not kicking, Dawn was more fragile than ever. And Spike didn't want Buffy to know.

Buffy was standing there, staring at him, her eyes filled with tears, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if she was trying to hold herself together in one piece.

"Spike," she whimpered, her chin shaking, the tears finally spilling over as she stepped into his crypt and sank to the floor, curled into a ball, rocking herself slightly.

Spike shut the door. And then he didn't know what to do. Sit down beside her and put his arm around her? Or just continue to stand there, hands in pockets, and wait for her to say something?

"What can I do?" He finally asked, when she hadn't moved for a few minutes. These last couple weeks with Buffy had been…indescribable. He knew he was the only thing holding her together and God help him he would not fuck it up.

"Angel," she whispered.

Did she think somehow that he was Angel? She hadn't exactly been Miss Sanity Fair since she'd been back. No, that was horrible to even think.

"Angel," she whispered, obviously trying again, "He and I. It was…"

"Terrible," he supplied hopefully. She snorted and laughed through her tears at the obvious hope in his voice, which only made her shake her head ruefully and then cry harder.

"Yes," she admitted, and then, "And no."

Spike finally sat down beside her and ran a soothing hand down her back. When she didn't object he continued to stroke her hair, working out the tangles, waiting for her to speak again.

"We met at this place…it's just a spot along the road, a little look out. But it's exactly half-way. We had planned to meet there…not just this time, but before, when he left…turned out he didn't need me like I thought he did."

She swallowed a fresh lump in her throat at that and then took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh,

"Anyway, water under the bridge, or over it or whatever. It was dark when he got there, obviously. He saw…I mean he knew…that I was…the way I am."

Spike nodded. And for the first time since she'd arrived she looked him straight in the eyes.

"I asked him to kill me."

"What?" Spike asked, alarmed.

"I…we were…I mean we started to. And he said he could feel it, feel his soul, burning, falling away. And I…I said he was useless, that he couldn't give me even…in that moment, Spike, with him inside me, it was Heaven."

Spike felt his chest tightening, longing to pull her into his arms and give her that Heaven. But he knew it wasn't his to give.

"What happened next?" Spike asked, dreading the answer.

"I said I was in Heaven. And I begged him to send me back there. If he couldn't give me even the basest consolation, to let me go home instead."

Spike's eyes overflowed with tears and suddenly she was in his arms, and he wasn't entirely sure how she got there, only that she was soft, and warm, and holding onto him for dear life.

"He wouldn't even look at me, Spike. He wouldn't even look at me," she sobbed into his neck.

He brushed away his tears with one hand and then grabbed her chin.

"Look at me, love," he demanded low.

She resisted, but his hand was insistent.

"Look at me," he ordered softly.

Almost defiantly she lifted her face to look into his eyes.

"_I'm_ looking at you," he said in a whisper.

She swallowed, and he could see the fear growing in her eyes. She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready to face anything she could see written on his face. She was terrified, but there were worse fears than this, she realized. This was what she needed, she thought, as she pulled herself up. She would get back there, she promised herself as she pressed her lips gently to his.

She drew back and whispered against his lips, "Let me go home."

He froze but she kissed him again, fiercely this time.

"No, love, I can't do that," Spike said roughly, holding her back.

"Come _on_," she ordered through gritted teeth, pulling an arm free from his grip and smacking him across the face.

"No," he repeated quietly, and pinned her arms to her sides again.

"I can't live like this," she screamed at him. This time it was he who hit her. Hard across the mouth, hard enough that she fell to the stone floor.

"You _will_ live like this, I will _make_ you live like this," he replied, and scooped her back up into his lap again.

"Spike, _please_," she begged. He could see her fighting with herself. Half of her ashamed to be begging, and the other half completely helpless against it.

"I wouldn't be that selfish, Buffy."

A confused frown crossed her face at that. He smiled; she was so adorable when she was upset. He traced a finger over her lips. Oh what he wouldn't give to be able to give her back her home, her Death. He would do anything to make her happy.

"If it was just for me I'd kill you now. I'd be making love to you and just when you were coming I'd drain you, and you'd die in Heaven with a smile on your face," he murmured, "But this isn't about me. It's about Dawn. And a promise you made to her when you jumped through that portal. And a promise I made to you about taking care of her."

She was silenced by that, his words ringing with all the clarity of truth. All she could do then was to curl into his chest, her forehead tucked against his neck, and pray for the strength to drag herself off the floor, and go back home to the friends who loved her.


	3. Chapter 3

After Smashed

Oh God, I can't believe what happened last night. Except I can believe it, because it's been building. I was deceiving myself about where our…understanding…was leading. I was pretending that finally, against all odds, after all the hatred, we were friends. And I was finally getting some comfort that was given purely altruistically. I should feel betrayed, and wonder what he was playing at, whether or not he's been playing me the whole time. I should feel betrayed, but I don't. I don't feel betrayed because I don't think I have ever wanted someone that much. All day today I have literally been quivering with excitement and fear and desire. I haven't been able to eat because my stomach still has that feeling you get right before an orgasm. I went and dealt with my friends, lying about where I'd been, what I'd been doing. Willow seemed to believe me, once I got the hang of my lie and started to expand on it. Tara knew it was a lie of course, Tara always knows. I wish I could have pulled her aside and apologized for deceiving her, that I would tell her the whole story in a few days, as soon as this _thing_ whatever it is, sorts itself out.


	4. Chapter 4

After Gone

When does the loathing turn to love? And I don't mean love in the gushy Valentine's sense because I don't _love_ Spike. But my body loves his in the most basic fundamental definition of a certain kind of love. The thing is-it must have changed from loathing to love long before I realized it-because the first time? I was horrified and ashamed and afraid but not surprised.

I wish I could say I was under the influence of something-anything-but I wasn't under the influence of anything but despair. I told Willow that I realized today that I didn't want to die. And I have only Spike to thank for that really, if I'm totally honest with myself. I am so thankful for him for that, and that's a kind of love too.


	5. Chapter 5

After As You Were

It will be hard to stay away from him. It will be hard to tear myself away from such passion and such fear and such _fun_. The last few days have been torture. I keep telling myself I'm doing the right thing, I'm being a good person, a better person, by staying away from him. But am I really a better person if all I want is for him to come in through my window, tear my clothes off and fuck me till I don't care anymore?

There are things I want to say about him, about us, before I lay it to rest. There is no one I can lay out the details to, not a soul I can unburden myself on. But there are things that someone should know. There are things that I will say at the final reckoning when I will have to pay for this. I will say that it felt like Heaven. And it also felt like Hell. I got off on the pain. Pain's a thing with him, no shit Sherlock, but it turns out it's an even bigger thing with me. He played at hurting me, he pretended. But I wanted the real thing. The real thing was the only thing that could take me far enough to the edge to fly back to Heaven for a few moments.

The first time I felt guilty, sure. But the guilt only lasted as long as cleansing the house of Willow's magic stuff, and spending one night away from him. It was like that one night was my penance. Because the next day? I was _happy_. Not mentally, emotionally happy, but physically happy. My body was singing in the sunshine of a glorious discovery. It knew that it was only a matter of time before I would cave and go back to him for another dose. Which of course I did. And another, and another, and another.

He was more playful than I expected. I guess Riley was always very serious about making love, and Spike was all about finding the fun in it.

For two days I didn't see him. He didn't call, didn't randomly show up in my yard, or at the Magic Box, or on my patrol. He didn't come to buy a burger at the Doublemeat Palace. I guess when I dumped him I had counted on him following me, begging me, attacking me, fighting me, hurting me, more of the same. I didn't think he'd give up. And I missed him. I missed him so much I almost let myself be the vulnerable girl I still am sometimes and beg _him_, attack _him_, fight _him_, hurt _him_. It is already hard to stay away from him. And I saw him today. It wasn't much. But it was something. Suddenly I ran into him on my way home from the grocery story after work. He looked terrible. I can only imagine how awful I must have looked. He reached out to touch me, and I let him. He held my face in his hands for a moment, and then left. I had never felt number in my life. And then I watched him walk away. Like I watched Angel walk away, like I watched Riley fly away in that helicopter. I thought that I was the one leaving Spike, and I felt righteous and free walking out of his crypt. Because for once I thought I had the upper hand. I didn't think it was really over. Somehow now I feel like I didn't end it, that he did, because he knew I wanted it to be over. And yes, I do want it to be over. I need it to be over. But then why do I still feel like another man has just walked away from me forever and left me behind?


	6. Chapter 6

After Hells Bells

I have to ease the ache seeing him with that skank left me with. I'm aching, my whole body yearning for him. I could ask him for one more time, and he'd give it, no questions asked. He wouldn't even pressure me into the second and third times that would occur that same evening. But I know it would not be one more time. If I slip once…if I slip once I am done for.

But so I close my eyes and think about other partners, of Riley. Of the feeling of his nipple under my tongue. His body wrapped around mine in a cocoon of unbelievable pleasure. I even allow myself to think of Angel, which I never do. And remember the way his body covered mine. The innocent way we would sit, and he would listen to my heartbeat. And pressed against his body we would sleep together and the peace and safety was beyond the telling of it.

And then-flashes of Spike. Intrusions. Physical sense-memories of him thrusting into me, of my body quaking with the impact so hard that my vision blurs and there's darkness surrounding my tunnel vision which sees only his face looming above me. The taste of the sweat on his upper lip after he's come. He liked to come on my stomach, on my breasts, something Riley or Angel never would have done (or at least they never did it with me). Ordinarily I might say eww, but with the way I would be without consciousness at that point, only a body and a soul, with no mind to speak of, it was intensely erotic. I remember licking the rest of his liquid off his cock and then kissing him, hoping stupidly that maybe that was something new for him (although with over a century of sex I'm sure nothing is new to him).

I yank my mind back to the present, and land my fantasy on Riley again. I realize that Riley is the only human I've been with (stupid Parker SO does not count) and the warmth, the combined heat was overwhelming. Feeling him hot inside me, hot all around me. I remember my cheeks flushing, my whole body on fire. By the end I would be covered in sweat and my face would be fire-engine red and I wouldn't care because of the way he would look at me after he rolled onto his side to face me.

And then Spike, and I can almost taste his saliva as he bites down, hard, on my bottom lip.


End file.
